


The Little Orange Bird

by dragonofeternal



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fairy Tales, M/M, Peepsicola, bird!Davesprite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofeternal/pseuds/dragonofeternal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ONCE UPON A TIME there was a little orange bird. Every day that little orange bird sat on the window ledge of a young man and sang to wake him up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Orange Bird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neonferriswheels](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=neonferriswheels).



Once upon a time there was a little orange bird. Every day that little orange bird sat on the window ledge of a young man and sang to wake him up. The young man, John, was largely happy with his life, and the little orange bird was happy for him. However, being happy for John and being happy himself were two entirely different things, and the little bird actually bore a great sadness in his heart, for he loved the human John even though he knew that as a bird they could never really be together. One day, the human John fell ill, and the little bird fretted and worried until his feathered breast was nearly bare. There had to be something he could do to help the boy he loved so dearly, and so he set out on the west wind to seek help.

First he stopped atop the roof of a tiny stone house so that he could speak with the ghost of a preposterously well dressed cat. "If you wish to cure what ails your human friend, I am not sure what to say," said the cat, "for I do not know much in the way of medicine. I would suggest you ask the dog who lives across the great pond, for he is wise in many things." The orange bird thanked the cat for his assistance and then took wing again, flying across the great pond all day and all night so that he could meet the great dog who was wise in the ways of men. On the third day of flight, he finally reached the dog's home, and was surprised to find the dog waiting for him.

"I have come seeking a way to cure the one I love," said the orange bird.

"I know," replied the great white dog without speaking, with a voice that echoed in the bird's mind like a riotous headache. "And I have thought long and hard on how best to advise you. I have spoken with my Witch, and I have spoken with the stars, and I have spoken with the great knowledge of the universe."

The little bird nodded. "Then what must I do?" he asked of the dog.

The dog pointed his nose at a small copse of trees. "There grows in those trees a plant which produces a berry that can turn a beast human for a short period of time. You must pick the berries and consume them, then go to the land of Seaviess. There they peddle cures for all mens' woes and ills, and there you will find what you need to cure your love's illness." The little orange bird fluffed up his feathers and thanked the dog profusely, but the great white beast held up a paw. "Do not thank me quite so enthusiastically, for there is a price." The little bird tilted his head. "Although the berries' power is great and mighty, its magic is too powerful for any mere mortal creature to consume. Once you have eaten the berries, they will begin to poison you from the inside out, and your life will be made brief. You will die as soon as you return to your original form."

The little orange bird swallowed and nodded, still thanking the dog for all he had done to help him. He flew to the grove where the berries grew and stared at their small red surfaces long and hard. To eat these berries was to save his love, but to doom himself. It was, indeed, quite the fearful prospect. Surely there had to be another way to save the human John, but was there time? Would he be able to find another way to cure the boy's ills before... The little orange bird found himself resolved: to live without John would be to live in a truly sad and empty world. He pecked loose the berries and carried them back across the great pond in his beak, traveling for three days and three nights until he reached the land of Seaviess, a great white citadel with strange red runes of protection on the front- fitting for a place of such great power. The little orange bird crouched in the brush, staring at the berries for a long while before gobbling them up. The change was almost instantaneous, as he soon found himself dressed in soft finery not unlike that which his beloved John often wore. He lifted a wing up to his head to feel the strange, unfamiliar face and was startled to see the pale, featherless skin and long dextrous fingers tipped with black, clawlike nails he now had. He took a moment, crouched in that bush, to discover his new soft but still sensitive lips and short orange fur on the top of his head. But he soon chastised himself, for time was of the essence, and his one love needed him desperately. The little orange bird in the skin of a man strode through the citadel's open, welcoming gates and spoke boldly to a women who wore an apron the red of the place's protective runes.

"I seek a potion to cure my love of a fever that threatens his life," the bird said, almost startling at the human depth of his voice.

The woman considered him harshly for a moment, appraising his worth, before handing him a box the very orange of his now absent feathers. "This should fix your friend, but that's no reason not to see a doctor." The bird nodded and accepted her advice, although he knew no doctor could cure what ailed his love. He paid her in the coins that he had received from the dog, and made haste to his love's side. Not knowing the best way to enter the home of his love, he entered the way he often had on warm spring mornings- by the window on the second story that lead into his love's bedroom. But the room was empty. The little orange bird's heart skipped a beat. Could it be that his love was already dead? Had his hesitation and folly cost him the most precious thing in his life? The little bird felt his heart seize up in terror, and called out to his love in his now unfamiliar voice.

"John? John, where are you?" he cried, feeling tears prick the corners of his eyes.

The door to the room burst open, and his love came in, looking thoroughly confused and completely well. The boy and the bird stared at each other for a long moment before the human John finally broke the silence. "Who are you, and how did you get into my house?"

The little orange bird swallowed. "I don't have a name, for I am but a bird-" "A bird?" John cut in, swallowing a laugh. The bird looked indignant for a moment but went on. "Yes, a bird. I'm the bird who sits upon your sill every morning and sings you to waking and who welcomes you back when the sky is filled with ink and only the stars illuminate the street. I have watched you for as long as I can recall, and I love you more than any creature has ever loved another. When you fell ill, I traveled first to speak with the dead, but they knew nothing. Then I went to speak with the wise, but they could only guide me. Finally I spoke with the healers, and they gave me this, so that I could heal the ills that threatened to claim you."

The little orange bird held out the box to John, who stared at it. "They gave you Dayquil," John said slowly, looking back up at the bird. "Look, I really appreciate this, uh, bird. But, you didn't have to do all this. It was just a cold." The bird blinked. "I'm pretty much better already. But, uh, thanks for the Dayquil, I guess."

The little bird stared at the box, then back up at the human John, who was smiling sheepishly back at him. It had been all for naught; his love had never needed him in such a way. His quest was one of fools who wished to look great in the eyes of their loves, not one of true selflessness and heroism. For the second time that day, he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "Then..." The little bird felt his human face crumple, and the John human stepped awkwardly to his side.

Um, are you okay dude? Are-are you crying? I mean, Dayquil's great, it's always nice to get stuff for free, so I really appreciate it, but-" The boy's words were interrupted by a crackling and rippling of sound and space that revealed the great white dog who was wise in many things.

"Why did you send me on a fool's errand?!" the bird cried bitterly. "I did as you told me, and you knew, for you are wise in all things, that my quest was in folly! That I wasn't needed!"

The dog tilted his head. "I warned you what would happen if you ate the berries."

The bird felt himself growing angry now. "But you knew that my help was entirely unneeded! That I was powerless as a bird and just as powerless as a man!"

The dog put a paw to his muzzle, sighing. "But look at you now. You are in a form where you may speak to your love, and tell him of your feelings through more than just your song. He is your equal now, in form and in brevity. For I did not become wise in all things in a single lifetime, bird, and I have lived my life in a thousand and one lifetimes. To me, the life of a human is the shortest of whiles, and since you have eaten the berries selflessly, to aid those you love, you have been rewarded with that short while, and a form with which to share your feelings with the one you love."

The human John looked between the man who was a bird and the dog who was most wise with utter confusion on his face. "I suddenly understand nothing."

The dog chuckled and turned his gaze from bird to boy. "This bird has loved you for a long while, and when you fell ill, I led him to a berry that I told him would turn him human at the cost of making his life brief. He ate the berry in spite of that, so that he could save your life."

"But I wasn't dying! It was just a cold!"

"Indeed. But in his ignorance, the bird was willing to give himself to save you." John turned to regard the bird. "But as I have just said, all things to me are brief, and in truth the berries have given him a lifespan that shall match your own." The dog smiled before fading into the crackling ether. "Fare well."

The human John and the bird who was a man stared at the empty space where the dog had been, and then looked at one another, uncertain of what to do. That night there was much confusion and talk as they attempted to puzzle out what to do with their strange new fates, but, in the end, true love had its way, as is often the case in these sorts of tales. The boy named the bird Dave, and they lived the rest of their days together in peace and happiness. The end.


End file.
